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Halagh: Hello to Boomsticks
'Halagh Communal Caverns ' ---- ::A series of graduated tiers, like giant steps, have been carved to form a descending path from the great bowl that indents Halagh Peak, winding, twisting and narrowing before finally opening into a great cavernous belly within the mountain peak. Here, the denizens of Halagh's primary city dwell in communal caverns spoking off from a chamber so massive that it actually spawns its own weather. ::Thin wisps of what might be fog or cloud tendrils drift among the stalactites that densely populate the ceiling of the main cavern.Iron catwalks crisscross the chamber, intersecting with a great metal support spindle in the center of the communal caverns. The catwalks provide access both to the hive-like domiciles of the Halaghi and to the great chambers that house the steam generators and coal-powered turbines that provide life-supporting warmth to the underground city. ---- Halaghi of all the cities have gathered in the massive communal cavern of the capital for the Newvations Showoffery, where Halaghi inventors display their newest gadgets, gizmos, and whathoosits. The crowd mills about from display to display, which range in size from the top of a fused desk to a giant iron platform. The inventor is usually close by, happy to explain what the doohickey does and how they made it. The Buroks-In-Answering shuffle around in a huddled group, muttering amongst themselves as they overlook one machine or another. In the midst of the crowd is a curious Hal'ofan who happily squeezes in between conversing Halaghi to get from exhibit to exhibit. She clutches a dirigibling turb underneath her left arm much like some sort of prize or trophy of her status as a pilot, although nobody around seems at all impressed - or even aware. She stops before a display and lingers behind a group of younger onlookers, rising on tiptoe and peering over their heads as she paces around behind them in an attempt to finagle a more advantageous position. A man with a distinguished moustache and black hair parted down the middle of his head hawks the giant contraption on display near Hal'ofan. A thin iron rod is attached to a giant gemglass chamber with assorted knobs and valves. "My Crackbang Trapper will allow us to capture and harness the light that strikes from the sky! I believe it is the future source of powering gizmos." Nearby, another gadgeteer with mutton chops goes on about the specifications of a large iron cylinder with a giant drill on one end and conveyer belt treads. The Buroks-In-Answering listen and nod, muttering every so often to each other. Disinterest is instantly visible on Hal'ofan's face at the mention of harnessing energy for gizmos. "Well 'n good," she grumbles beneath her breath to herself before elbowing her way in between two conversing Buroks to move on to the next display. "Don't mean much to me on looksee." A passing Halaghi bumps into Ofan's side and the two exchange bored looks before moving in opposite directions. Circumventing another group deep in conversation, she stops before a display that has yet to draw much of crowd, earning herself a front-row spot. It probably could have been a nice, quiet, *family* Newvations Showoffery if all had gone to plan without a hitch. One filled with the latest innovations in goat-natchery, and goat-stashery, and goat-snatchery, and even goat-miscatchery!However, in what may yet be remembered as *THE* ninth hour of Darkening on Iceshinery, the 33rd day of Snowdeeper in the year 627, those well laid plans and the best intentions of the Buroks-in-Waiting are apparently shattered by a very noisy and highly strange bout of gruff and highly sanctimonious grumbles hailing from near to the main ingress of the Communal Caverns, "Git all yer dingbattery an' yer fandangles an' dojiggered habiligabbered whatchamacallits outta me way yah goat-lovin' spider-huggin' ice-suckin' no-talent gimcrackin' jackleg spider-baitin' hacks 'afore I feed ye all to me Samophlange an' turn ya inna' summat yer motherkissin' kin wouldn' try to use fur a losh' duster!" The source of the commotion appears to be a somewhat older Halaghi with black hair, a thick black beard, and a very stocky and bantam frame indeed. His attire is unusual in that it doesn't look like anything that any other Halaghi in the Communal Caverns are wearing, and the deep-green of the tinted goggles he wears only seem to make him stand out even more. "Junk! Junk! Scraprattle! Junk! Cluttertrash! Junk! BAH! Call THAT a doodad?! JUNK!" The appraisal of other works and inventions continues for a few more moments until he who appraises them comes into full view of those who strive to get a better look, and the Halaghi known as Hal'aster is beheld in all his statuesque glory: hauling a rectangular contraption around on his back, secured to his body by a number of straps and buckles. A long tube runs from that contraption to a long and slender one that he holds between thinly gloved hands, while one might also notice that square pouch that rests against his right hip. "Well? What ye all gogglin' at? Think yer'd never seen a Hally wit' a doohicky 'afore." "Hal'aster! What the meaning of this goatfoolery?" Hal'Bak and the other Buroks push through the crowd. "Explainify yourself this moment or we will have the wrongstoppers force you out. What is that gizmo? Why are you dressed in that getup?" As the the tolerable murmur of hawking inventors and appraising onlookers draws to a silent pause, Hal'ofan turns slowly away from the suddenly uninteresting exhibit to watch, along with many of the others, as the ostentatious Halaghi storms into the cavern to steal the show with his vociferous blustering. She squints (not the only one) and peers over her shoulder at scrapper with suspicion and irritation written across her features. "What'sit hootin'?" Of course, the proper authorities have taken the situation into their own hands, so she lingers in the background to watch. For now. The somewhat eccentric Halaghi in the goggles and the steamtonk backpackered across his back merely smiles at the reaction; or at least the displacement of the black fuzz around his mouth that makes up that thick beard could be considered to be a smile, one might suppose. "Well 'al'beck," the gruff engineer begins, his voice a little more relevant to the setting now the initial commotion has been caused, "Seemed to me that some 'er yer cloudhuggerin' diggerbles didn' come back from tha' look-see over that biggerun' contraption across the flatterplace to the south." Nestling one end of the long shaft of coldwood in the crook of his left arm, Hal'aster flexes his grip on the iron handle at the other, looking around at the various other Halaghi that now look his way as he offers what could perhaps be secret reports in an utterly casual "heard it in the bamboozlery" kind of way. "Shootifyin' at some of our pilots wit' poppersticks, I 'eard, from atop the biggerun mountain..." He shakes his head. "Yer jus' gunna let'em get away wit' that?" "We've been discussifying ways of making firstalkings with the biggeruns. They do seem to be unkeen on outsiderists, but it seems unwise to start some sort of fightsticuffs with them." Hal'bak strokes his beard while looking at the eccentric inventor. Shootifyin'--what? The new take on what was, to Hal'ofan, simply a bad piloting job leaves the woman stunned momentarily before she shoves a few other flabbergasted visitors out of the way to draw in closer. Her brows knit together as she glances from the hobknobbin' Hal'aster to the shuffling Buroks. "What're we--" she starts to say, but realizes the softness of her voice wouldn't carry beyond those immediately surrounding her. She clears her throat and glances down before turning her attention to the Buroks once again. She waits for a moment before squinting again before ahem'ing a second time, "So pacify." Seems simple enough. "Feh." Hal'aster snorts by way of reply to Hal'bak's attempts to reason and show logic. His expression is generally unreadable, hidden behind goggles and fuzz as it is, but that single sound of expression and that one word alone pretty much sum up the engineer's feelings on the matter just as well. He casts a green-tinted glance towards Hal'ofan as she offers her suggestion, shaking his head in contempt as he then looks back upon the Burok. "If ye be wantin' ya hide behind yer nanny goat, getting yer hugsnuggers all a'tanglified aroun' yer neck wit' yer neckwrappin' aroun' yer feet an' yer leggers over yer 'ead then that's all well an' good..." He nods, apparently at his own words. "BUT..." "...Instead of firstalkin' 'bout discussifyin' an' discussifyin' 'bout firstalkin' with these biggerun's and hopin' that some of thes' gimmickerifications might solve all yer issues wit' out 'avin to resortikin to fightsticuffs, I've bin gittin' me nogginfogger in track and boggenin' down me some thingamajiggers instead! 'av a look, 'al'beck: them biggerun's have poppersticks, so I creatiforged one of me own! Ha!" Hal'bak raises an eyebrow. "You creatiforged your own." The other Buroks also show some sort of curiosity regarding Hal'aster's gadgetry. "So it shootblams things then? That doesn't seem very helpingy to a firstalk without fightsticuffs." One of the other Buroks pipes up. "Perhaps in defensitude? The next expeditionary team could use them to fend off the biggeruns until they make a landing." Scorned. Rather than falling back into silence, she snorts in derision as she eyes the contraption and its usage is explained. She stoops for a second to drop her turb on the ground to be cradled between her loshes before crossing her arms over her chest and staring at Hal'aster with a stern and unimpressed gaze. Behind Hal'ofan, the crowd is shifting once more and more than one of the inventors, having been thoroughly insulted, are growing red in the face and shifting about in front of their own gizmos and doohickereys. Whispers, hushed but undeniable, lace through the cavern, and the general noises of a crowd escaping a daze."What's got my noggin' rolling down the 'walk," she contributes to nobody in particular although she's staring pointedly at Hal'aster, "Is who yer gonna shootify that noisitude /at/. They blastbangedup a dirigible, and my thinkster's telling me shootblamming isn't going to stopper 'em. They'll launchify right back and bzzzzztpshh!" Hal'aster looks a little wounded as Hal'bak attempts to summarize the nature of his newest creations. "'al'beck," the gruff engineer states in a tone that would almost come across as patronizing were it not for the fact that his voice sounds like gravel, "Yer woundicut me deep, 'al'beck. I creatiforged me own, but it don't jus' 'shootblam' stuff, 'al'beck." There's a pause, "Oh no, 'al'beck. It KABLAMIFIES'em! Heeheehee." That said, Hal'aster adopts a combat-pose that he creates on the spot and - without any thought to reason - smoothly takes grip of the coldwood length between his gloved hands and levels the device at Hal'ofan. "BOOM! Hehe. I call it... ME BOOMSTICK! An' we can blastbang shotpebbles back at'em! They'll be all, "'ey, 'av a taste of me popperstick yer goathuggin' turb wearin' outsiderists!" and we'll be all, "That all ya got yer spiderkissin' biggerun?!" an' me boomstickers will launchify 'alf a mountin' at em! Firstalk wit' me boomstick!" The backpacker steamtonk on Hal'aster's back, meanwhile, starts to hiss and gurgle. Uh-oh. The Buroks all back away as Hal'aster demonstrates, the crowd behind them stepping back as well. Some people put on their goggles. Hal'ofan jumps backward in surprise and raises a hand up to cover her mouth for a moment. Her cheeks flush at her nervousness, and she bends over to scoop up her turb before backpedaling a few paces and moving sideways between a line of people that have chosen this particular moment to draw forward in curiosity. Obviously her take on a peaceful approach to the outsiders isn't going to be the popular opinion, but still she pursues by pushing forward again, this time appearing somewhere closer to the Burok-In-Answering, Hal'bak. "Bad thinkstering," she comments quietly - but loud enough to be overheard - as she pulls her dirigibling turb with its flashy crimson insignia onto her head tightly, determined to stick it out until the majiggerthing really looks like it might pebblify her. "Something's got me tritionmelter doin' flips at the thought'a kerblamming anywho's. We oughtta just dropdown farther away from the upbuilder so's their flingstuffs don't reach us." "Bah." Evidently oblivious to the sputterings of complaints coming from the somewhat volitile contrapation that's strapped to his back, Hal'aster merely offers yet another deep and profound reply to those who would dismiss his latest, greatest, creation. Now he's frightened everyone that the sights of the Boomstick swept over, he switches it to his left hand and holds it at a perpendicular angle to his body. "Not gonna' kerblam it in 'ere, ya daft lot of whosis fandangles. It's good thinkerin' any'ow, if you want my nogginthought! Ain't much more ye can do right now but plummetlapse goaterbombs down on'em, an' what goodisult will that 'ave, eh? Oooh, looksee, 'hem Hallies are givin' us 'rition. 'ere, av some flingstuff popperstucks. Bah." The Steamtonk continues to gurgle, and snarl, and hiss, and growl, and build up until - with a resounding TWONG - Hal'aster gives the contrapation a solid 'behind the back' thump via his right hand. In true Halaghi fashion, that seems to stop the problem. "Well, I've yabbered what I came 'ere to yabber about any'ow, 'al'beck. The optifications are there iffen' ye need'em. Ye want to deadify more of our pilots, yer can... but me an' me boomsticks..." He just leaves that one hanging. "Hal'bak," Burok Hal'rutam steps forward, "The gadgeteer may have a point. Maybe the implification of these boomsticks would be benefactory to expeditionary teams." The Buroks all look at each other and nod, with some mutters thrown in. Hal'bak utters a sound of thought. "We shall discussify it at the Governary Gathermeet tomorrow." "Halterfied, you all are," Hal'ofan grumbles as the Buroks shuffle forward to attend to their duties. She looks openly disgusted, and she glances around to gauge the reaction of the others, which only drives her further into her own irritation. "When I go a'lookseein', I don't never want a rocknoggin'd fightsticuffs-starter dragging a heapajunked like that on me dirig'," she comments loudly as her eyes scan the crowd once more before settling disdainfully upon the huddled Buroks. "Lookin' t'start troubledings and hardstuffs for us all, y'are. We were pacifidic and /happyded/ before we had our own flingstuffs and kerblammifiers and explosimisions and--and--and /fightsticuffs/. Knockerheided." The last word is volleyed toward Hal'aster before she turns and begins pushing her way into the crowd once more, all the while grumbling and shaking her turbed head. "Feh." It's a simple word, but it seems to accomplish everything that the gruff engineer needs to express given that his expression is still pretty much utterly hidden behind a face full of beard and goggles of the deepest-green tint known in all of Halagh. He looks between Hal'ofan as she melts back into the crowd of onlookers, and then back upon the pale-wood and cobalt-iron Boomstick he tenderly caresses in his hands. "Good job she hasn't 'ad a looksee at the other two then, eh?" he finally offers with a touch of mirth behind of tone, "Got the Samophlange to creatify a Kerblamstick, but tha's nothin' next to the Kaboom stick! Gonna kerblam me some Spindleleggers, anyway. Show you jus' what ol'Hal'aster's trinkets can do." With that stated and a firm mission now ahead, Hal'aster turns and - without another negative word thrown at any would-be engineer or inventor within this now utterly disrupted Newvations Showoffery, plods back out of the Communal Caverns with nothing but the sound of whirring gizmos and hissing valves flowing in his wake.... Until a few minutes later when a dull "boom" echoes back through the carvens, followed by a touch of paniced screaming and a certain gruff voice assuring the owner of that screaming that a little fire never hurt anyone! Burok Hal'urmta steps forward to address the gathered crowd. "Do continue examinating the newvations on display! We're all here to have some funjoyment, eh?" The Buroks all shuffle off toward the cavern exit. ---- ''Return to Season 5 (2007) Category:Logs